Thursday, August 24, 2017

Vegan, Holier Than Thou, and Proud

I don’t care if non-vegans perceive me as having a holier-than-thou attitude, because they would be correct.  I believe that as a vegan, I am physically, mentally, and spiritually cleaner than those who are still eating corpses, tit milk, and eggs.  

On the physical plane, necrovorism is absolutely the filthiest habit one can engage in.  It is, often quite literally, a coprophilic and necrophilic activity.  The body of a chicken, pig, or cow is often covered and embedded with feces due to the inevitable fact that death is a messy process where one shits oneself.  There is also the matter of the corpse itself — corpses are unclean, which is why humans do not eat their own dead.  Only carnivores such as lions and sharks (big, razorblade teeth, short digestive tract) can handle the nasty bacteria that teems from every bite of quickly-rotting flesh.  You would think that a human would not have to be informed that eating corpses and poop is not a healthy or wise habit, but thousands of years of addiction, conditioning, and entitlement have trained most of the human race otherwise.  



Humans have always prided themselves on their intellectual abilities, and there is actually much to be proud of.  Man’s intellect has given him the gift of reason, logic, and contemplation, all of which are jettisoned the instant a human puts a piece of intestine-wrapped, feces-laden, slaughterhouse floor debris sausage into his mouth.

Humans have chosen to express their superiority to other creatures and their unchallenged dominance of the planet by resorting to necrovorism.  Never mind that man’s actions over the last few hundred years are warming the Earth to the point where the living superorganism is fixing to crush all of our fragile civilizations, who happen to need convenient things like shipping avenues and a stable climate, nah, let’s keep on stuffing our face with sentient beings who wanted to live free lives.  The greatest minds on our planet are capable of the most staggering suspensions of cognitive dissonance.  The same people who consider themselves stewards of the Earth and animal/nature lovers go out into the forest and assassinate the animals they “respect” with high powered rifles.  To add insult to mortal injury, the only reason deer and other animals require a new apex predator is because the self-styled smartest species on the planet destroyed the previous order to put up his mini-malls, highways, and suburban tract homes.    “Stop driving cars and flying in planes!” screech the humans who label themselves as environmentalists as they suffer convenient amnesia and fly to a magical fantasyland where cows ruminate rainbows and unicorn farts instead of huge amounts of plants.  I cannot help but feel mentally superior to a human who cries about plants having feelings yet fails to understand which primeval forests were mowed down so soy could be grown for his hamburger.  Maybe I can placate him in his whirl of seething emotions by letting him take a pet banana out on a walk.

Spiritually, I am the fire and brimstone to the waffling, rotted out dry plastic of necrovore justifications and rationalizations.  If this is a purity contest, I am not the one polluting my chi with the energies of murder victims.  I suppose Jeffrey Dahmer and Ed Gein felt they had the spiritual right to take other’s lives, plus I’m sure they felt a rush of power and dominance that came from victimizing the innocent. Hmmm, can we say mommy issues?  I would not put them on the side of righteous protagonist if I were writing a novel about their exploits.  

Have a good time at your fairy festival, while you dress as a winged elemental and then eat or wear the remnants of another winged elemental who has been stripped of her feathers.  Why did you do it?  Convenience?  Jealousy? Power trip?


So please don’t talk to me about communing with gods and lofty aspirations when you worship every day at the altar of addiction to dead flesh.  If there is anyone to answer to in the end, I hope you have to face the animals you paid to have killed or personally killed.  You live in the age of the internet, where the animals who suffer for your palate, entertainment, and pleasure can be viewed on video dying for no good reason — you have officially run out of excuses.

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